


From Failing Hands

by Miko



Series: We Shall Keep The Faith [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Open Relationships, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is happy for his friends, he truly is. But being happy for them doesn't stop it from hurting like a bitch. At least he has Natasha to turn to.</p><p>This fic should be read in sequence with the rest of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Failing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wasn't even in my series outline, but it hit me this morning and I ran with it, wrote the whole thing in two hours. That's very unusual for me, especially with an explicit scene. Hopefully, that means it's a good one!

The heavy bag barely lasted three solid blows before Steve’s next punch ripped it right off its chains, sending it flying a good five feet across the room before it landed to spray sand everywhere. Breathing hard, he swore. Four hits weren’t nearly enough to let him work off his frustration. 

More importantly, he wasn’t sure it had taken enough time to let Peggy and Bucky make it all the way upstairs before he followed them. There was no way in Hell Steve was taking the main corridors back to his quarters when he looked and felt like this. Sweatpants didn’t do much to hide the condition he was in. The teasing was going to be bad enough from earlier, he didn’t need to hand the others extra ammunition.

There were more bags in the equipment room, but in the end Steve decided to leave it and head back. As long as he went slow, he should stay far enough behind not to run into his friends. If he stayed in the gym too long, one of the others would catch him anyway.

That reminded him of another issue. He was supposed to be starting a training session with the team in less than half an hour, but he was in no state to get any work done. “Computer,” he called as he headed through the back halls. “Send a text message to the other Avengers. Everything scheduled for today is cancelled. We’ll pick up training first thing tomorrow.”

Natasha could have run the drills without him, of course. And in an hour or two Steve would be fine, he could have just cancelled the morning sessions. On the other hand, Maximoff wasn’t going to be good for much else today, and he wanted to give the rest a chance to settle down after this morning’s excitement.

Thankfully when he emerged from the stairwell into the hall between their quarters, there was no sign of anyone else. He glanced at Peggy’s door, the red light on the panel showing that she didn’t want to be disturbed, and he had to bite his lip to stop a pained sound from escaping him. There wasn’t much doubt what his friends were up to, not when he’d heard them discussing moving somewhere more comfortable for a second round.

He wished that was all he’d heard. God damn his perfect recall, anyway. There were some things Steve did not want to have running through his head again and again. It had hurt badly enough the first time, listening to Peggy begging Bucky for more and calling his name over and over again. 

Even worse, Steve hadn’t been able to stop picturing himself in there with her, imagining her calling _his_ name as a desperate plea. He couldn’t tell exactly what Bucky had been doing just from the sounds, but he had a pretty good idea. 

They were probably beautiful together, pale skin and dark hair and toned bodies moving together in the perfect synchronicity that only seemed to happen in battle or in bed between two people who knew each other that well, cared for each other that much. Steve had felt it with Natasha, more than once, and he had no doubt Bucky and Peggy would be the same.

Groaning, Steve struggled to even out his breathing. He really needed to stop thinking about it and get out of the damned hall before someone did come along.

On a whim he checked Natasha’s door, but the panel was grey to indicate that she wasn’t inside. Probably just as well. It still felt kind of wrong to use her to sate his need for Peggy, and anyway as worked up as he was, he might well hurt her without meaning to.

Inside his own quarters he headed straight for the small room where he’d hung another heavy bag. He didn’t always want to be out in public when he was working through his issues, such as on the nights when Natasha wasn’t there and the dreams hit him hard. This was definitely one of the times he was glad to have it available.

Cursing under his breath with each punch, Steve did his best to pound his frustration into the bag and out of his body, though he tried not to hit so hard he’d blow the bag out again. Why the Hell hadn’t he asked Stark to design him something he couldn’t break? As soon as he was calm enough to be safe interacting with other people, he’d do that.

On second thought, maybe he’d just make a note and do it tomorrow. If Tony caught even the slightest hint of what Steve was upset about, he’d _never_ hear the end of it. Hopefully Rhodes would take pity on him and not relay _all_ the details of this morning’s events to Tony.

Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Rogers. The gossip was probably flying already.

Focusing on the inevitable teasing he was going to be in for was better than thinking about Bucky and Peggy together. The chains holding the bag up stopped creaking warningly with every punch, and Steve started to believe he might actually get it together at some point today after all.

“What the Hell happened to you?”

Natasha’s voice startled him enough that he missed his next punch, and nearly face-planted into the bag. Catching himself against it, Steve turned to see her standing in the doorway, staring at him wide-eyed. Taking stock of himself, it wasn’t hard to figure out why she was surprised. He was a mess; disheveled, sweaty, and panting, not to mention the obvious tent still stretching the front of his pants.

There were so many reasons he didn’t want to explain all this to Natasha, Steve couldn’t even count them. “Not now, Romanoff,” he growled, and turned back to the bag, hoping she’d get the hint and go away.

No such luck. Not that he’d really expected her to, but a guy could hope.

“Did Barnes leave after all?” Natasha asked, concern obvious in her voice. “I thought you three would be together all day, especially after I got your message cancelling the sessions.”

Steve spoke between punches, trying not to _think_ about it while he explained. “He’s here,” jab, “with Peggy,” jab, “and I really,” cross, “don’t want,” uppercut, “to talk about it.” Roundhouse, hard enough that he nearly knocked the bag loose, but he managed to catch and steady it before it tore free.

“I knew them being together was upsetting you more than you let on, but I didn’t realize it bothered you this much,” she said, studying him with her brow furrowed and a hint of pity in her eyes. 

“It doesn’t,” Steve insisted, setting up for another combination of strikes. “Or it wouldn’t, except when I have to stand there and _listen_ to them going at it.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he knew she was arching an eyebrow at him. Her tone when she spoke was a combination of amused and disbelieving. “Even your hearing isn’t good enough to be able to hear them having sex through two soundproofed walls and a hallway, Steve. Or did you stand outside with your ear to the wall?”

The bag nearly ripped again, and Steve had to just stand there for a minute before he could answer her. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it throbbing at every pulse point. “Bucky kissed her in the gym, and then it was like he couldn’t stop himself. Peggy wasn’t about to tell him no, and when he started to take her top off I left. But the door doesn’t lock, so I had to stand guard.”

“Makes sense,” Natasha said slowly, like she was feeling her way through the logic as she spoke. “Barnes has had almost no positive feedback of any kind for so long, of course he’d get swept up and carried away when he experienced something pleasurable.”

That made Steve feel even worse, something he hadn’t thought was possible. Now on top of regret, longing, arousal, and shame, he got to feel guilty for begrudging his best friend the first good thing in his life in _sixty years_. So Steve had been hurt a little as a result. It was nothing compared to what Peggy had gone through, let alone what Bucky had. They deserved the chance to have their moment together without Steve spoiling it with envy.

“Can we please talk about it _later_?” he half demanded, half begged. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“Well, you know there’s an obvious solution for that,” she replied, her smile turning sly. “I bet I can help you work off that frustration faster than the heavy bag can. We did suffer a bit of coitus interruptus this morning, and it’s rude to leave a girl hanging.”

The temptation to take her up on it was almost overwhelming, and Steve had to clench his hands into fists to keep from going to her. “It wouldn’t bother you to be with me knowing I’m thinking about her?”

“She might be the one who got you this worked up, but I’m more than happy to benefit from it,” Natasha purred, moving towards him. “Besides, I guarantee you won’t be thinking about her long after I get my hands on you.”

She reached for him, and he caught her hands before she could make contact. She blinked up at him, startled. “I’ll hurt you,” he told her, voice hoarse. The tight grip he had on her wrists proved his point for him, and he struggled to gentle his touch before he left bruises.

The pity from earlier was back in her eyes. “I can handle anything you can give me,” she insisted, turning her wrists in his grip so she could stroke the sensitive skin of his forearms. He shuddered and clenched his hands despite his best efforts not to.

A tiny sound of pain escaped Natasha, though he could tell she was fighting not to let it out. He released her immediately and stepped back, breathing hard. “I could shatter you without meaning to and you know it.”

She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes distant as a hundred unreadable thoughts flitted across her face. When she focused on him again, she looked determined. “All right. I can work with that. Shirt off.”

“Are you suicidal?” he exclaimed, incredulous. How could she not be taking the threat seriously?

“No, although I can play the masochist on occasion and enjoy it,” she replied, amusement lighting up her eyes. “Not today, though. Get that shirt _off_ , Rogers.”

She really was far too good at that drill sergeant tone, Steve thought helplessly as he reached to strip off his shirt.

Once it was gone she grabbed his hands and lifted them over his head, planting them firmly on the top of the heavy bag. He gripped the canvas, confused, as she slipped into the space between his body and the bag and raised up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “Good. Now _don’t move_ them.”

Understanding came, and Steve groaned. The biggest risk of him hurting her was if he hung on to her too hard, so she’d given him something to hold that he couldn’t damage. It meant he couldn’t touch her, but that was a small price to pay to be able to have her hands on him with no danger.

She was feathering the lightest of touches over his chest and abdomen, just scraping the edge of her nails over his skin. It was the only point of contact between them, though she stood so close to him he could feel her heat all over. Steve shuddered and had to grip the bag hard to keep from following through on the urge to catch her by the hips and pull her closer.

“That’s it,” Natasha encouraged him. She moved to the side, firming her touch as she trailed her hand around to his back, then raked abruptly at his spine. She followed it up with a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, and murmured her next words against his skin. “Seems like you enjoyed it. Listening to them.”

Shame spiked through him again. Bad enough that Peggy had obviously been able to tell. “Natasha...”

“How much could you hear?” she persisted, her tone low and intimate. She continued to play with her nails over his spine, alternating sharp scratches with gentle touches at random. “The gym isn’t soundproof, so knowing you, everything. What did they do? Kiss? Touch each other? Did she go down on him? Bet that would be arousing as Hell for any guy to listen to.”

“This is supposed to be making me _not_ think about it?” Steve gasped. What the Hell was she doing?

“Oh, I’ll get you focused on me in the end,” she promised him. “Right now I want to hear all about it. Did she go down on him?”

Unable to believe this was even happening, Steve leaned his head against the bag. Still, he answered her, knowing she wouldn’t give up until he did. “No. I... I think he did.”

That was when she’d been saying Bucky’s name, over and over, each time more desperate and needy than the last. He hadn’t heard anything from Bucky, and her words at the end indicated Bucky couldn’t have been inside her before that. Steve’s fevered imagination was more than happy to provide visuals to go along with the sounds playing back through his mind.

“He was that caught up and still took care of her first? Somebody trained him well.” Natasha slipped her hands around his waist, fingers just dipping past the waistband of his sweats, teasing over the muscles of his abs as she pressed against him from behind. “Not her, presumably, but she gets to reap the benefits. Think he’s any good?”

There was no way Steve could keep from wondering how good Bucky might be with his mouth, not after a question like that. His knees threatened to give out, and the hook on the ceiling protested as the bag took some of his weight until he could get his feet back under him.

“ _Really_.” Natasha sounded intrigued. “So it’s not just Peggy you’re hung up on, it’s Barnes as well?”

Once again shame washed through him. Why did she have to be so damned good at reading him? “I don’t... I’m not...”

He didn’t think about men like that. He knew it happened; he’d grown up in a rough area of Brooklyn, and the simple fact was that there hadn’t been nearly enough girls to go around in Europe, so some of the soldiers turned to each other to deal with their needs. It had never bothered him. Steve figured what people did in the privacy of their own homes - or tents - was their damned business. 

Occasionally a male fan would express attraction to him, though they were far more open and obvious about it now than they had been back in the day. Steve always did his best to turn them down gently while making it clear he wasn’t upset. He’d never once been interested in accepting any of their invitations.

Then again, he’d never taken any of the dames up on it, either. Any more than he’d followed up on Natasha’s suggestions for dates. He could appreciate the looks of a pretty girl in a way he didn’t admire guys, but he never much thought about doing anything with them. 

Nor had he thought about them when he jerked off, in the dark of the night. Mostly he hadn’t thought about anything except how good it felt, but once in a while he’d caught himself wondering if Bucky was doing the same thing in his bed. Or when they were older, thought about what his best friend did with the dames after Steve finally gave up on their dates and went home. It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t tried to do well on the dates, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to be alone forever, but it had just never felt right.

Not until Peggy. And even then, not until he’d really gotten to know her, to like and admire her. After that he’d pretty much been consumed by his feelings for her, and he’d been vaguely grateful to know he wasn’t broken somehow after all.

Natasha had let him get lost in his head, but now she brought his attention back to the present by running a nail sharply from his collarbone to his navel. She’d moved around to the front so she could see him again, and she was smirking at him, but not without a trace of sympathy.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know,” she told him. Her eyes were half-lidded, expression smouldering, as she hooked her fingers in his waistband and began to inch it downwards. Slowly, so damned slowly it was torture. “Did the two of you ever experiment? Practice kissing for the girls, maybe?”

“No,” Steve moaned, the suggestion making him shiver. Or maybe that was her nails on his hips. Probably both, God help him. Then he laughed, though the sound was choked. “He never needed extra practice, he got plenty of it _with_ the dames.”

“Too bad, that’s a nice image,” Natasha sounded genuinely disappointed. It hadn’t occurred to Steve that she might enjoy watching him with another attractive guy, the same way he’d enjoyed watching her with other women. 

She eased the pants over the head of his dick, then let the elastic snap back abruptly, trapping his length against his stomach. Steve panted sharply, struggling for control. She had him so on edge even that was nearly enough to push him over. He was pretty sure he'd never been this turned on before in his life.

“Hmm. I’m starting to wonder if I could get you off just by talking about them,” Natasha teased. She was playing over his abs again, fingers just brushing his dick every so often, and every time she did Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “Shall we find out?”

“Natasha...” She was killing him. She was God damned killing him, and Steve was going to stand there and let her, because he couldn’t imagine a better way to go.

Putting one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she went up on tiptoe again so she could run her tongue over the shell of his ear. “What do you think he’s doing to her right now? Fucking her? Or making love?”

There had been a time when Steve had thought the former term was just a rude version of the latter. He knew better now, because he’d definitely experienced the difference with Natasha. When he worshipped her body in the morning sunlight and they came together so beautifully, that was making love. When they bit and clawed at each other and he had to be careful not to break her as he thrust into her, that was fucking.

He could easily imagine Peggy and Bucky doing either. Would Bucky pound into her, too lost in his desire to be gentle? Would she dig her nails into his back the way Natasha did to Steve? Or would they be going slow, having gotten the worst of the need out of their systems earlier?

“Christ,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. It didn’t help, since the images were all in his head to start with. He was _never_ going to get this out of his mind. 

For that matter, he was never going to be able to face either of them again without blushing himself to death.

“Maybe,” Natasha breathed into his ear, twisting at his nipple with the hand not on his shoulder. “Maybe she’s doing something like this. Maybe she’s got him flat on his back in the bed, running her hands all over him, teasing him. Learning every inch of him. _Tasting_ every inch of him.” She suited actions to words, running her mouth down his throat to his shoulder, nipping and licking at his skin as she went. 

Steve couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as badly as he wanted to drop his hands and tear her clothes off so he could feel her skin against him. He nearly did it, but she either knew him too well or read something in his body language. “I said _don’t move_ them, Rogers.”

“Nat!” The first syllable of her name was all he could get out, his voice strangled. 

“No.” Her voice was sharp, but turned sweet a moment later. “You don’t want to hurt me, remember? I’m taking care of you, right now.”

“No you’re fuckin’ _not_ ,” he groaned, and she laughed. 

“We’ll get there.” She continued her downward journey with her mouth, tasting and teasing as she went, until she found his nipple. She played there for a minute, her hands gripping his hips tightly to stop him from pressing against her to get the friction he needed so badly. He could easily have broken her hold, of course, but as desperate as he was to come, he also didn’t want this to be over yet.

Leaving his nipple, she sank slowly to her knees, kissing him the whole way down. “Maybe she’s returning the favour he did her earlier,” she suggested. “She was married for years, right? She’s probably good at it. That pretty mouth of hers is certainly suited to it. Just imagine it... those soft lips, wrapping around him, her tongue brushing the head, licking at his slit...”

She didn’t even touch him, just hovered her mouth right above his tip and let her heated breath wash over him as she spoke. It was too much, and Steve’s whole body jerked as he came with a shout that was nearly a scream.

The ceiling cracked and gave way as he yanked unintentionally on the heavy bag. Steve had barely enough presence of mind to push it away from him so it wouldn’t topple onto Natasha, but the move overbalanced him and _he_ ended up sprawling over her instead.

They landed in a tangle of limbs, his chest propped up by the bag and Natasha tucked into the hollow beneath him. She was laughing, her smirk wicked, not a hint of shame in her eyes.

All Steve could do was lie there, his whole body trembling, gulping down air. Finally he managed to shift so he was sitting beside her, leaning on the bag, but that was as far as he could get. “You’re just paying me back for all the times I made you come more than once and you couldn’t move afterwards.”

She gave him a look like he’d just proved himself to be an idiot after all. “Duh.”

He didn’t have the strength for a full laugh, but he chuckled breathlessly. Fair was fair, he supposed. 

“Feeling better?” she asked, stroking his chest gently with one hand. 

“Yeah.” Not just because he’d gotten rid of the worst of his sexual tension, he realized as he took stock. The tearing, grinding anguish that had been shredding his heart at the thought of everything he’d missed having with Peggy had settled as well. Not gone, but better enough to let him breathe and think again.

Somehow, in forcing him to imagine the two of them together while giving him the release he needed so badly, Natasha had taken the worst edges off his pain. It really was frightening sometimes how good she was at working people.

From somewhere he dredged up the energy to reach out and pull her close enough for a heated kiss. “I love you,” he murmured, his heart spilling over with emotion.

Too late, he realized his mistake as she went stiff in his arms. “That’s not a demand,” he told her, backing off so he could meet her eyes, but refusing to let go of her. She was trying to shut down in that way that she had, pretending that nothing ever affected her, but he could still see hints of panic. “ _Natasha_ , listen to me. It’s the same as when I gave you my door codes, all right? I’m giving to you freely, not asking for something in return. You don’t have to say it. You don’t have to feel it. I just want you to know that I do.”

She struggled with that for a moment, but finally relaxed into his arms again. He tried to hide his sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off, but her wry smile told him he hadn’t succeeded. “You’re insane, but I guess I’m not going to complain,” she said.

“How could I not love a woman who not only doesn’t get jealous of me fantasizing about my best friend and ex-girlfriend, she eggs me on?” he asked.

“Well, you might have a point there.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “So, how long are you going to need to recover? Because I have soaked through my damned _pants_ , let alone my panties. I think it’s my turn.”

Rolling over, he scooped her up and pushed to his feet in the same motion. His limbs were still a little shaky, but not enough that he was in any danger of dropping her. “You know I’m going to have to think of a way to pay you back for that, right?” he growled as he carried her towards the bedroom.

She wrapped her hand around his neck and kissed him fiercely. “I’m counting on it.”


End file.
